


Three Times Raylan Bought Boyd a Drink

by misura



Category: Justified
Genre: Community: smallfandomfest, Drinking & Talking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Buy you a drink?"</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Boyd remembered the distant rumbling sound, the burning sensation in his lungs (he hadn't felt it at the time; it was his imagination, already glossing over the actual memory, changing it, turning it into a story he and Raylan might share in later days, and think to be exciting).</i>
</p><p>
  <i>"Only if you'll let me buy you the next one," he said.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Raylan Bought Boyd a Drink

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Raylan & or / Boyd, liquid courage_ (cynicalshoes)

.01

"Buy you a drink?"

Boyd remembered the distant rumbling sound, the burning sensation in his lungs (he hadn't felt it at the time; it was his imagination, already glossing over the actual memory, changing it, turning it into a story he and Raylan might share in later days, and think to be exciting).

"Only if you'll let me buy you the next one," he said.

Raylan smiled. Boyd had thought him to be a real charmer, first time they met. Popular with the ladies, and so he was, for all that Raylan didn't seem to be one to form any lasting relationships. Boyd wasn't one to hold that against a man, though, not with the way he was still quite unattached himself.

And not with the way a man might well die at the age of nineteen.

"I'll drink to that."

They had both stumbled, occasionally, on their way out. They had stumbled, but they hadn't fallen, because there had been someone next to them, to hold them up, drag them on. Boyd had heard about men making it out alone. Good men, most folks agreed. Good men who had been called forth to be measured and found wanting.

A man might find religion down there, Boyd reckoned. It wasn't for him, though, that sort of thing. God hadn't grabbed his arm, or yelled at him to keep moving, and so Boyd didn't quite see why he should be paying Him any more respect than he always had.

 

"Don't think I'll be going back down," Raylan said, after their third drink.

"Taking some leave?" Boyd asked. It seemed a bit impolite to ask: _'can I come with?'_ , for all that the temptation was there. True friends were a rare thing, in Boyd's experience. Worth letting go, when they wanted to be left alone for a bit.

Raylan ordered the fourth round, which wasn't quite right, given that it was Boyd's turn.

"No," Raylan said. "It'll be more of a permanent, lasting thing."

"Oh," Boyd said, and then, because they were, after all, friends: "Scared?"

"Scared shitless," Raylan said, with only a very faint trace of shame in his voice.

"Then I guess quitting's the smart thing to do."

"Yeah," Raylan said. "That's what I figured."

 

.02

"Buy you a drink?" Raylan said, and his smile was new and familiar all at once. It wasn't necessarily sincere, Boyd knew, in the sense that Raylan himself, at any moment, wasn't necessarily sincere.

It was a good show, though. A good smile.

"You know, Raylan, as your friend, I feel it my duty to inform you that a trifle originality might go a long way towards improving your chances in the type of situation we keep finding ourselves in here."

"Really now," Raylan said. Still smiling, but it was the faintly amused, 'let's humor the hardened criminal who used to be my friend once upon a time' kind of smile now, so Boyd figured today wasn't going to be his day, either. "And what type of situation might that be, hm?"

"Yes, Raylan, you may buy me a drink."

"No, really," Raylan said. "Humor me. What type of situation do you reckon we're having ourselves here, Boyd? The one where you tell me that, yes, it was you who did it?"

"Yes, Raylan," Boyd replied, mostly for the petty pleasure of seeing the expression on Raylan's face, the surprise, and to look for some small sign of something else. A clue, he supposed - for all that it seemed blindingly obvious that Raylan didn't seem to possess any of those. "I reckon that about sums up your expectations in this regard."

"And you just keep letting me down."

"The truth, it is said, will set a man free. Or a woman."

"In your case, I think it was something else," Raylan said, pleasant as you please, even though Boyd could tell he was at that stage where he was half-annoyed and half-embarrassed and half-honest to God happy to be here, and if that was one half too many to make a whole, well, then it was just another sign that life could get mighty complicated sometimes, if you made an effort to make it so.

"My drink?" Boyd asked.

Raylan sighed and signaled over the bartender.

 

.03

"Buy you a drink?"

In each man's life, there were good days and bad days. "What do you want, Raylan?"

"Whoa, touchy," Raylan said, as if he couldn't for the life of him figure out why anyone might be less than filled with joy at the sight of him.

Granted, the man was a sight that might bring a sparkle to a sore eye here and there, provided he didn't then open his mouth to speak.

Boyd grimaced and kept quiet.

"Just a drink, Boyd," Raylan said, hands spread, as if that meant anything, and then he smiled a half-crooked smile and added: "I assure you my intentions are strictly honorable," and Boyd didn't quite know if that was adding insult to injury or injury to insult.

"Raylan." He wanted to sigh. He wanted to hit someone, probably Raylan. It wasn't as if that face of his would get any less pretty with a bruise on it. He wanted to feel the weight of a rocket launcher on his shoulder as he aimed it and all was right with the world. "Do correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm fairly sure that's not even legal in these here parts."

Raylan frowned. "What are you babbling about?"

Boyd stopped resisting the temptation and sighed. "Nothing, Raylan. Nothing."

For a moment, he thought Raylan might push - there was the lure of something possibly not quite legal having been mentioned, after all. Raylan was generally more than willing to be distracted by that sort of thing. It was by way of being a bit of an obsession of his: the idea that Boyd was, in fact, regularly and thoughtlessly breaking the law, and foolish enough to talk about it to a US Marshal besides.

"We live together, we sleep together - now you want us to get married? What's next, buying a house in Puerto Rico for when we're gray and old?"

"It's a thought," Boyd said.


End file.
